


Mistletoe and Whisky

by LeanaM



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, Christmas traditions, F/M, Hogwarts, I don't even know why I did this, Mistletoe mishap, and im so sorry, but it just happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-09 15:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeanaM/pseuds/LeanaM
Summary: Chance brings them together one Christmas. It was only supposed to be once. But desire is stronger than reason. Anything is possible on Christmas, after all.





	Mistletoe and Whisky

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fairest of the Rare Advent 2017.  
> Warning: These characters might be considered OOC, but sometimes, much like everyone else, the glow of Christmas softens them and they come together…  
> Also, I put the blame for this squarely on the shoulders of DelicateScholar.

* * *

 

**Mistletoe & Whisky**

 

* * *

 

 

**Christmas 1991**

Minerva walked to her rooms, one hand absently trailing the walls. It wasn’t that she needed the support, really. She was the Deputy Head. She wouldn’t be caught drunk in the castle, ever. 

She stumbled over a protruding flagstone and scrabbled for purchase, but, to her surprise, she didn’t hit the floor when she failed to grab onto anything.

Two strong hands caught her and helped her to her feet. Minerva could feel the colour rising in her cheeks. She turned to thank her saviour, half mortified, half relieved, and ready to tell off any student should they even think about running around and telling the others… But no, it hadn’t been a student. 

“Severus.”

Severus Snape inclined his head. “Minerva.” He had long ago disposed of the joke hats that had come out of the crackers. His sleek, black hair glistened in the torchlight. “Can I escort you to your rooms?” He held out his arm, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes.

Her cheeks heated up even more. She was sure she looked as red as her House emblem by now. “I’m perfectly fine, Severus,” she said, trying - but failing - not to snap at him. 

Severus inclined his head again. His arm dropped to his side. “As you wish.”

Minerva took a deep breath, turned away from him and tried to move. She couldn’t. It was as if an invisible wall had erected itself around her.  She heard Severus cough and she turned back to him, glaring. He only pointed at the ceiling, a little smile on his face.  Minerva followed his direction and looked up to find a flourishing branch of mistletoe above her head. Her eyes widened.

“Perhaps you will need my assistance after all,” came Severus’ silky voice. 

Minerva snapped her head back down and met his gaze. She lifted her chin a little to hide her discomfort. 

Severus took a few steps forward until he was a mere handful of inches away from her. Something else gleamed in his eyes now. Not amusement, no, it was something darker, burning with an intensity that made Minerva swallow nervously. 

Then his lips were on hers, warm, insistent, demanding. A spark of pure joy ran down her spine at the contact and she couldn’t help herself. Her hands found his robes and pulled him closer, running over his chest, his shoulders, anchoring her. It was everything she had ever dreamed of and more, it was so much more. When his tongue tentatively licked the seam of her lips, she opened them for him, and a long forgotten fire ran through her veins and pooled low in her belly.

When he finally pulled away, she rested her forehead against his. “We can’t do this, Severus.”

The hands on her waist tightened, as if unwilling to let her go. “I know.”

Minerva tried to gather her thoughts. “It wouldn’t… The students…”

“I know.” Hell and damnation, even those few words spoken in  _ that  _ voice were enough to set her off right now. “But today… it’s Christmas. Anything it possible, today.”

The words startled her. Did he mean that? She leaned back a bit, searching his face for any indication that he might not be serious, but she could find none. Her lips curled into a smile, and she leaned forward again, slanting her lips over his in a quick kiss. “My rooms are closer,” she breathed in his ear.

* * *

**Christmas 1992**

Minerva took another swig of her whisky, a very nice 15 year old Dalwhinnie. She liked the Muggle stuff. It reminded her of her father. And she needed a bit of comfort now. Christmas was hardly cheerful, with two students petrified in the Hospital Wing. She’d passed by them before retiring to her rooms, little Colin Creevey and Justin Finch-Fletchley. What a shock it had been to find them.

She shivered, despite the warm fire in front of her, and leaned back in her chair, as if hoping to be engulfed by it. She couldn’t wait for this Christmas to be over. She was getting uncomfortable. Much as Albus insisted the school was safe, it was surely a risk to keep the children here, with a monster on the loose? The last time, someone died. Poor old Myrtle. She’d never liked Myrtle but her loss had been a shock. Surely Hagrid wasn’t…

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts, and a moment later Severus stalked into her room. “Evening, Minerva.”

Minerva rose from her seat, the whisky tumbler nearly falling to the floor in her hasty movement. “Severus, what are you doing here?” Her voice was sharper than she wanted it to be, but her worry about the legendary monster in the Chamber of Secrets made her feel on edge. “You cannot seriously have walked around this castle on your own, in the middle of the night?”

Severus flashed her a smile, a genuine smile that lit up his entire face, then continued pouring himself a good two fingers of whisky. “I can take care of myself, Minerva. I’m a grown man, after all.” He raised an eyebrow with the last statement, as if to say, you know very well that I am.

Minerva sat back down with a sigh. She didn’t want to think about last year. Last year, all had been well at Christmas. Last year at Christmas… She looked at Severus, who had installed himself comfortably in her other chair, legs outstretched towards the fire and head leaning against the back. 

“You should be more careful. This beast… it targets half-bloods as well as muggleborns. And we’re both… We have to be so careful, Severus. I never thought I’d be scared for my life in this place, but I am.” It must have been the whisky that made her speak so candidly, but she couldn’t retract the words. They hung between them, heavy, meaningful.

“I am convinced it was Potter who broke into that cupboard,” he said, out of the blue. 

Minerva shook his head. “Proof, Severus,” she said, almost scolding him. “I can’t punish the boy on your suspicions. And you shouldn’t dislike him just because he’s James’ son.” 

Severus glared at her. “Polyjuice. I’m sure he’s making Polyjuice.”

“Potter? That same Potter you complain about not even being able to brew a proper Pepper-Up Potion with the most minute step-by-step instructions? That Potter? Brewing a NEWT-level potion?” Minerva laughed heartily. For the first time that day, it seemed as if the heavy burdens of the school were lifted. 

They sat in silence, sipping their whisky and staring into the fire, for a long time. Minerva had almost forgotten Severus was there, until he rose and began to take his leave. “I should go. Goodnight, Minerva.”

Minerva rose too, and caught up with him before he reached the door. “Wait, Severus. Why did you come?” It took all her Gryffindor courage to ask the question, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she was glad she had. His eyes turned that same dark fire she had seen the year before, that same flame of desire she had dreamed of ever since.

“I think you know perfectly well why.”

Minerva couldn’t help smiling. A perfectly Slytherin answer. “I’m not in need of assistance to escape a rogue mistletoe, Severus.” She was teasing, but he seemed to take her seriously, as his face closed up and his shoulders tensed.

“Of course. Forgive me for intruding on you this evening, Minerva.”

He tried to step past her, but she moved with him and blocked his way. Her hand reached out to touch his, but he shied away from her touch. “Don’t go.” 

He froze and she took advantage, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him with all the fire that was consuming her from the inside. She kissed him and kissed him and when he finally, finally, gave in and let his hands wander over her body, responding to the kiss, she melted and sparkled. She revelled in being alive, desired, wanted. She revelled in finally, finally, holding this man in her arms again. 

“Just for tonight?” She almost didn’t want to say the words, but she knew she had to make sure they were both on the same page.

He nodded. “Just for tonight,” he repeated. Then he grinned, and Minerva was struck by how young he looked. “I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping.”

She laughed and led him to her bedroom.

* * *

**Christmas 1993**

Severus stormed into Minerva’s office, a potion vial in each hand. The door slammed closed behind him. Minerva looked up from the Firebolt she was examining. 

“You have heard of knocking, I presume, Severus?” Her voice betrayed how tired she was. She had examined the broom from every possible angle, had tried every possible spell she could think of to find out if it had been tampered with, but she had not yet found evidence of wrongdoing. It seemed to be a normal Firebolt. And what a broom it was, too. Artistry. Pure artistry. 

Severus placed the vials on her desk. “Just a sprinkle. Try the purple one first.” His voice was shaking with suppressed excitement. “You really think Black might have sent it to him?” 

Minerva shrugged. “It’s as good a guess as any, Severus. I certainly didn’t. And even if it wasn’t Black, any former Death Eater might have gotten the idea to send Potter a cursed broom. It is a simple safety precaution.”

Severus huffed and linked his hands behind his back. He stood perfectly still, observing her every move. The broom didn’t react to the potion. That was good. It meant it had not been imbued with imbalance potions. Minerva reached for the green potion. 

“Careful with that one. It’s very strong. Too high a concentration might damage the broom.” 

It was said so casually that Minerva looked up to study his face. She shook her head, a gentle smile curling her lips. “You needn’t be jealous, Severus. Harry managed to beat Slytherin on his Nimbus 2000. I’m sure he’s good enough to beat the other Seekers even if he were flying a Comet.”

She sprinkled the green potion over the broom. It evaporated before it touched the wood. The smoke was an innocent white colour. Again, no potions found. 

“I can try something else,” Severus said. 

Minerva sighed, placed the vials in a drawer and walked around her desk to lean against it. She crossed her arms and looked at Severus. “I can’t help but feel responsible for the boy, Severus. I can’t let him keep the broom if there is any chance it has been hexed or tampered with.”

“I notice you have not asked Lupin to help you with this.” 

The remark sounded casual, but Minerva wasn’t fooled. “Albus says Remus’ loyalties are perfectly vouched for. I believe him.” Severus seemed to want to interject, but Minerva held up a hand. She knew exactly what he was going to say, and she didn’t want to hear it. “As I believed him when he vouched for you, Severus. You can do Remus that same courtesy, surely?”

But Severus was stubborn.  “He knew Black, better than anyone.”

Minerva nodded. “Yes, he did. But I think you forget, Severus, that you are not the only one who lost everything the night Sirius Black betrayed the Potters.”

Severus wanted to argue, but Minerva had had enough. “Let’s go to the Great Hall for dinner. I don’t want to discuss this any further.” She pushed away from her desk and began to walk towards the door.

“Lupin knows something,” Severus muttered, “I’m convinced he knows something.” 

Minerva privately agreed. She’d known Remus Lupin for long enough to know when he was hiding something. But she also believed that his heart was in the right place, and that he would never jeopardise the only child of the friends he lost. But she wasn’t going to tell Severus that. There was no need to fuel his suspicions.

She turned on her heel and leaned against the door. “It’s Christmas.” 

Severus nodded. Something changed in his stance. “I know.”

“We have… a tradition.” Gryffindor though she was, she couldn’t bring herself to voice the thoughts that were uppermost in her mind, not in her office. Her cheeks flushed a little. 

Severus flashed her a predatory smile. “Indeed we do. But usually we reserve that… tradition… for after dinner.” He stepped closer and placed his hands against the door on either side of her head. “Unless,” he breathed, his lips a mere inch from hers, “you want to change that.”

Minerva swallowed. “I… we can’t… not here…” But she lost the argument with herself the moment she saw that dark flame burning in his eyes, and a heartbeat later, his lips were on hers. She could feel his magic surge through the air and heard the door lock click into place. Heat rushed through every part of her body before settling in a throbbing mess between her legs. 

“Severus…” She wasn’t sure what she was asking. Did she want him to stop? Did she want him to never stop? Her hands found the buttons on his robes and began to undo them, one by one, without her permission. 

“Come now, Minerva,” Severus whispered in her ear, “Surely you fantasised about this at some point? Doing it here, on that desk, behind which you handed many a detention to naughty students…” Her breath hitched. “Oh, you like that idea?” He stepped away from her, leaving the bodice of her robe hanging open. She hadn’t even noticed he’d been unfastening her clothes. He grabbed her hand and lead her to her chair. “Sit down, Minerva.” 

She obeyed. She wasn’t sure why, but tonight, it was Christmas, and on Christmas, everything was possible. He pushed her knees apart and hitched her robes up over her knees and further. She tried to protest, though without much fire. “Severus, you can’t…” 

Again, there was that predatory smile and a darkness burning in his eyes that left her breathless. 

“Come now, Minerva. I’m sure you’ve always wanted to have me on my knees for you.”

Now  _ that _ she couldn’t deny.

* * *

**Christmas 1994**

Minerva giggled as Monsieur Petit - ‘Call me Jean’ - lead her back to her seat. She knew she’d had too much of that noxious eggnog. She’d stopped the Weasley twins from spiking the punch, but perhaps they had sneaked something in that other bowl as well? She took another sip - it truly was a foul brew - and leaned back in her chair. 

“Careful, Minerva,” said a silky voice behind her. “You may want to drink a bit less of that.” 

She turned around with a smile. “Severus, how kind of you to worry about me.” She couldn’t help blinking a little when his head swayed in place. “You wouldn’t happen to have a hangover potion on you?” 

“Your wish is my command.” He handed her an ampul with a few drops of brown sludge. It looked truly vile, but Minerva trusted him and swallowed the lot before she could think the better of it.

The fog in her head cleared, as if a cool wind had blown away the cobwebs in her mind. She nodded gratefully and turned back, surveying the dancing couples. Potter wasn’t among them, but Cedric and Cho seemed to be having a good time. And Hermione looked as if she was enjoying herself with that Krum guy. She did deserve a nice evening. 

“Perhaps you would do me the honour?”

The words surprised her, and she looked almost incredulously at the extended hand. But Severus seemed quite serious. “Severus… the students...”

“They will think nothing of it, Minerva. After all, you danced with Dumbledore.” Something flashed through his eyes, but it was gone before Minerva could be sure. Had that been jealousy? Surely not.

“Please?”

She couldn’t refuse now and allowed Severus to lead her to the dance floor, where a slow waltz had just begun. If he held her a little closer than was strictly necessary, nobody seemed to notice.

“You look beautiful tonight, Minerva,” Severus said. His voice was so quiet she almost couldn’t catch it, and he seemed to speak without moving his lips. “You really outdid yourself with the decorations, too.”

“Thank you, Severus. Although I can’t take all the praise for that. Some of the Beauxbatons professors helped me.”

The hand on her waist tightened painfully before easing her robes into place with an apologetic caress. “That Petit guy has his eye on you.” 

She was sure, this time. It was jealousy. Or at the very least, annoyance. And she giggled. Minerva never giggled. But the dance, the alcohol, the Christmas spirit, it all made her feel like a young girl again, especially dancing in the arms of a man about half her age. He was a good dancer, too. She wondered where he had learned it. “You needn’t worry, Severus,” Minerva said lightly. “I have no intention of being caught by a smooth-talking Frenchman.” 

“How about a smooth-talking Potions master?” 

Minerva met Severus’ gaze unflinchingly. The promise in his eyes made her catch her breath. She wanted to tease. She wanted to say the Petit was, in fact, a Potions Master, too. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “I might be persuaded.” The hand she had placed on his shoulder drew slow circles over his robes and his eyes darkened. 

The music stopped all too soon. They made a formal bow to each other, then Severus took her arm and led her back to her seat. Minerva glanced around, but none of the students or staff were paying them any attention. “Will you come tonight?” The words came out in a rushed whisper, and the colour on her cheeks was not due to alcohol this time.

Severus smirked at her, his eyes dark as obsidian. “I think the question is rather, will I come alone, or with you?” he whispered back. 

“Severus!” 

But before she could fully reprimand him for his immature response, they were interrupted by Igor Karkaroff. 

“Severus, I need to speak to you.” He didn’t even apologise for intruding on their conversation, he just grabbed Severus’ arm and started dragging him away.

Minerva rose hastily from her chair and said, quite loudly and pointedly, “We shall continue this conversation later, Severus. I will expect you.”

Severus winked, his serious mask dissolving for just a moment, before he turned to Karkaroff and snatched his arm away, a scowl on his face. “I can walk by myself perfectly well, my friend.”

He didn’t glance back at her, but Minerva watched him until the two men were out of sight.

* * *

**Christmas 1995**

Minerva hesitated only a moment before knocking on the door. It was cold in the dungeons, colder than the rest of the castle, even. But she had made the trip down despite the dangers. 

Severus opened the door. He looked tired and dejected, but at the sight of her, the corners of his mouth turned up a little. 

“I didn’t expect you tonight,” he said, but he stepped back nonetheless and let her enter his room. She immediately went to the fire and held out her hands to warm herself. He came to stand beside her and offered her a glass of something. “Goblin Brandy,” he said, “Flitwick’s best.” She accepted it gratefully.

They stood in silence for a while, but eventually it was Severus who broke the silence. “I really didn’t expect you tonight,” he said. “With Umbridge in the castle…”

“You think I didn’t notice you slipping her that Sleeping Potion? She was yawning like mad by the time she left for her rooms. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d fallen asleep on the stairs somewhere.” 

Severus grinned. “She did, actually. I passed her. I’ll let the house-elves know where to find her in a few hours. They can take her to her rooms and leave her there.”

“It was risky, Severus.”

“Everything is a risk, Minerva. These days, nothing is safe.”

She finally turned to face him and placed a hand on his left forearm. “Are you?”

Severus pulled away from her. She had seen his mark, of course. He’d never bothered to hide it from her. But where it had been grey and dull in previous years, now it looked fresh, alive, real. It was more than a shadow of youthful sin. It was the mark of a man who kept making the wrong choices. “My safety is not your concern, Minerva.

Minerva glared at him. “You were in your rooms for two full weeks after returning to him. What did he do to you?” She had been worried, so worried, but he hadn’t allowed anyone access. Even Albus Dumbledore left him to his own devices while trying to track down whoever was left of the Order of the Phoenix and calling them to arms. 

Severus shook his head. “He trusts me again. That is all that matters. And you know it is, Minerva. It’s all I’m good for. And it will never be enough to make up for the mistakes I’ve made.”

The pain in those words cut through her heart. She reached out again, caressing his smooth cheek and running her hand through his long hair. “You carry too many burdens, Severus.”

“Don’t you?” His penetrating gaze made her pause. Did she? “Don’t you take the Longbottoms’ fate to heart? Don’t you blame yourself for leaving Potter with his Muggle relatives, with Petunia Evans, of all people? Don’t you blame yourself for believing Black was guilty, when it was never him, after all? For letting him be sent away to Azkaban without trial?” 

She sighed, her hand dropping to her side again. She felt so old, suddenly. Then Severus’ arms were around her. “We can forget. Tonight. It’s Christmas again. We can forget about it all.”

She downed the glass of brandy and let it fall to the floor. It bounced on the thick carpet and rolled away. She turned around in his arms until she was facing him, lacing her fingers behind his neck. “Make me forget, Severus. Just for one night.”

The touch of his lips was like coming home, this time. It was like the warmth of an open fire, like a woollen cloak wrapping around her, like hot chocolate sliding down her throat into her stomach and reaching out to every limb. She lost herself in his kiss, in the fierce battle of tongues, in the scraping of teeth and the touch of his hands all over her body. 

She did forget, that night. She forgot when she screamed his name, again and again, until she lay in his arms, exhausted and sated, and fell into a dreamless sleep. She forgot, until the moment she woke up again, and Christmas was over. 

* * *

**Christmas 1996**

Minerva knew she wouldn’t find him in his quarters. He hadn’t been at the Christmas dinner, either. Not that it had been all that happy an occasion this year. Story after story of people missing, families murdered and homes destroyed. Nobody was feeling the Christmas spirit. 

But the Defense classroom… it was his new sanctuary. The position was finally his and he spent every waking moment in there. The door was cracked open, a beam of light illuminating the dark hallway. The only sound was that of the clank of a bottle being slammed on a wooden desk just a little bit too forcefully. 

Minerva pushed the door open, a little hesitantly. The full glare of the torches blinded her for a moment, but then she saw him, slouched in his chair, an empty bottle lying on the floor, another bottle, still half-full, on his desk. He looked dishevelled, his hair a mess, his robes partially unbuttoned and slightly crooked. 

“Severus…” she put all the feelings she couldn’t express in that one word.

He didn’t look up from the whisky he was nursing. “‘S all a mess, Min’rva.”

Minerva walked in and closed the door behind her, casting a quick muffliato. “I know.”

“You don’t,” he said. “You don’t know. The things they ask me to do… Don’t know if I can do it any more, Min’rva. Don’t know… ‘s too much.”

Minerva sat down on the other side of the desk, pulling up a chair from the first row. She conjured a glass and poured herself a good amount. She needed it. To hell with eggnog this year.

“We all knew he would come back,” she said slowly, taking a fortifying sip. “We all knew he wasn’t really gone. I didn’t really want to believe it myself. I didn’t want it to start again. But it has, Severus. We have to face it.”

She reached a hand across the desk to grab his. He didn’t pull away, but latched onto her as if she was the only thing that could keep him from drowning. 

“What if I can’t do it? Whole damn war depends on me carrying out… he asks as if it’s nothing… can’t do it, Min’rva. Jus’ can’t.”

“You can tell me.” Minerva squeezed his hand encouragingly. “It’s Christmas. Everything is possible today.” She laughed, the brittle sound echoing in the empty room. 

“Make me forget, Min’rva. Please?” He looked so young when he finally lifted his head. And she felt so old. “Please?” 

She rose, holding on to his hand, and walked around the desk. She swivelled his chair to the side and nestled herself on his lap. “I will,” she said, between kisses. “I will.”

He wrapped his arms around her and clung to her.

It would be the first time she’d see him cry.

* * *

**Christmas 1997**

Minerva stalked into the Headmaster’s office, not even bothering to knock. “Severus, this has to stop.” 

Severus turned away from the portrait he’d been talking to. Professor Black? She wasn’t sure, he’d disappeared as soon as she entered. He looked her up and down, coolly, calculating. Then he sat down behind the desk. Minerva had to forcibly suppress the anger at seeing that usurper taking the place of a man she had always respected and admired. The twitch in his fingers, as if he wanted to reach for his wand, but decided not to, indicated she had not quite succeeded.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Minerva.” His voice was detached, almost metallic. He didn’t really seem to see her. His eyes went straight through her, as if she wasn’t really there. 

The door slammed closed behind her back. It startled her, but she wasn’t ready to give up. “The children, Severus. The students! We have a duty of care and protection. You cannot sit here and condone those… those monsters to use Unforgivables on them! Not as demonstrations, not as punishments. They are  _ children _ , Severus!” She clenched her hands to stop herself from reaching for her wand, or worse, reaching for him. 

“Is that why you came?” He steepled his fingers together and, for the first time, really seemed to look at her. “Are you quite sure?” 

The rise of his eyebrow made her cheeks flush. “Of course it is. Why else…”

He didn’t let her finish. He rose, suddenly, silently, like a cat, and then he stood in front of her, too close, too intense. “You know why you came here, Minerva. It wasn’t to reprimand me, yet again, over something you know I will not change.” 

The touch of his hands on her breasts sent white-hot anger searing through her body. She took a step back. ”I did not come here for  _ that _ ,” she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. Not to protect herself, but to show her anger.

He merely smiled, but there was no true amusement in his eyes. Only coldness. “Look at the date, Minerva.” She swallowed as he stepped closer and put his hands on her waist. His fingers seemed to burn through her robes. She didn’t have to look at the date. She knew what day it was. She knew he was right and yet she wasn’t ready to admit it. She hit back with the only thing she could think of. “You’re a murderer.” 

If she had expected him to recoil, she was disappointed. He merely nodded. “And yet here you are, Minerva. On Christmas. The night that everything is possible.” His voice dropped gradually to a whisper. He kissed a line along her neck to her ear and softly bit the lobe. Another white-hot burst of fury exploded in her blood. “Say no, Minerva.” His voice was challenging and he punctuated each word with a sharp nip at her jaw. “Say no,” he said again, bumping his nose to hers. She said nothing. She did nothing. But she didn’t push him away. She didn’t  _ want  _ to push him away. 

“Do you think I enjoy it,” he breathed in her ear, “sitting at his desk? Do you think I enjoy letting those idiots torture children?” Each word send unwanted shivers down her spine. Little by little, the voice that had brought her over the edge returned. She couldn’t stop herself from swaying against him. “Do you think I don’t know the house-elves are feeding the renegades in the Room of Hidden Things?” She stiffened in his arms and tried to take a step back, but he took her chin and forced her to look at him. “I know, Minerva, and I’m letting them. Doesn’t that tell you enough?”

“You’re no better than the rest of them.” Her voice was shaky, but underneath the emotion lay a core of steel. “You’re a monster, Severus. You’re just like them.”

“And yet you are still here,” he murmured. “Did you want to punish me? Punish me, then, Minerva.”

She kissed him. She didn’t want to hear his voice any more. The taste of their kiss turned salty with tears, but she kissed him, pushed him towards the desk and undressed him with a simple flick of her wrist. She let her anger rule, with no room for passion or pleasure. She bit and scratched and cried, and if her nails turned to claws, she pretended not to notice. She’d never thought she would do this, here, now, but it felt so damn right.

When she left him, he bled from several scratches on his back and chest, scratches that would no doubt turn to scars, and he was still painfully, throbbing hard. She’d taken, but not given pleasure. It was the only way she could think to punish him on Christmas.

* * *

**Christmas 1998**

Minerva sat at her desk, a bottle of whisky beside her. She was staring at a blank space on the wall. It was where Severus’ portrait should go, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to put it up yet. 

More than six months had gone by. More than six months for people to lick their wounds, to rebuild their homes, to bury their dead and to start again. She had started again. She and the other teachers had rebuilt the castle, and the school year had started, albeit a month late, with little to no inconvenience to the students. Many students hadn’t returned, some going to Muggle schools instead, others having transferred to Beauxbatons or another school on the continent. But the school was recovering, it was running like clockwork, despite the many ghosts still wandering about. 

She had grown to expect running into random students crying in the Great Hall, suddenly struck by the memory of their fallen friends. She had grown used to her colleagues losing track of their lectures for no apparent reason, falling silent with a faraway look in their eyes, as if trying to remember something that was just out of reach. 

There was only one ghost Minerva hadn’t laid to rest yet. 

The portrait stood against the far wall, the back facing outwards. She wasn’t sure she could face him, not yet. 

_ But if not now, when? _

She sighed, downed the whisky and got up on slightly shaky legs. She carried the portrait to the chair in front of the desk and turned it to face her. She sat down again and let her eyes take in the sight of Severus Snape. 

He was asleep, so he didn’t notice her scrutiny, and she was free to stare as long as she wanted. He looked at peace, there. It was such a difference from the Severus Snape she’d known a year ago, or even two, though she hadn’t noticed at the time exactly how tense he had been. Maybe because the tension and stress had slowly built up, eating away his energy and compassion until nothing was left.

But no, she was too harsh on him. He’d done what Albus had asked of him. He’d made the ultimate sacrifice. Harry Potter had made sure Severus was hailed as a war hero and his struggles were widely known.

Still, it was hard. It was hard to just forgive him for the evil that had happened here, in this castle that had once been built to protect the magical children of the British Isles. It was hard to forgive him when so many students still woke up screaming in the night. It was hard to forgive him when the children still jumped at the merest unexpected sound. 

Minerva poured herself another dram of whisky and swirled the golden liquid around in the glass. She leaned her chin on her hand and studied Severus some more. 

She’d been so angry, last Christmas. She’d left him and had never looked back. The last time she’d spoken to him, it was to challenge him and throw a curse at him. She smirked. He’d fled, the bastard, instead of giving her an honest fight. She knew she would have won. 

The whisky burned through her throat and settled in her stomach, warming her from the inside out. 

_ Perhaps it was time, after all.  _

“Wake up, Severus.” It was always the Head’s duty to wake the previous Head’s portrait, and she had postponed it for too long. 

He startled awake, with a shudder, creaking paint and a rustle of canvas. He blinked, looking a little confused, then, as if remembering who and where he was, his face stiffened, the mask back in place. “Minerva?”

It was the silky voice she had missed so much. Her heart soared in her chest. She couldn’t help smiling, and she held out her tumbler of whisky, as if in a toast.

“Happy Christmas, Severus.”


End file.
